


Tests and Lessons

by alisso



Category: Alex Rider - Anthony Horowitz
Genre: Blindfolds, Consensual Kink, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-10
Updated: 2010-01-10
Packaged: 2017-12-28 09:39:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/990505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alisso/pseuds/alisso
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Is it a test, or something more?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tests and Lessons

**Author's Note:**

> Another middle-of-the-night attack bunny that wouldn't leave me be. I have this thing about tops who bottom and bottoms who top - no one's ever completely one way or the other, it just has to happen in a way that suits them...

He wakes to darkness, and an uncomfortable feeling of exposure. When he tries to move, to twist to cover himself, that's when he realises he's bound.

Instinct urges him to struggle, but training and experience override the slowly rising panic, and he breathes deep and even, and listens.

Wherever he is, it isn't quite silent. Sound is filtering in from the outside, not clear enough to identify any details, but nothing about it seems strange. It just sounds like ordinary city noises - traffic, and the hum of people existing.

Blinking, he realises the darkness is a blindfold. It isn't thick enough to block out all light, but he can see no details, or even faint shapes.

The surface beneath him is soft, smooth - cotton sheets, he thinks, against his skin. He's been here a while, as the sheets have absorbed his body heat. Nothing else is touching him but the sheets, the blindfold, and the bindings on his wrists and ankles.

They're rope - it feels like good climbing rope, smooth and softer than sea-farer's line - and the knots feel well-executed and secure. They hold his arms above his head, and a little experimentation reveals that there are two trailing ends running from each wrist, each of which in turn appears to be tied to something solid. As a result, he can't move his arms at all. His ankles have been tied the same way, but out to the sides, leaving him spread-eagled on the - it must be a bed, it's too soft to be anything but a mattress.

His surroundings assessed as much as possible with those senses still available to him, he casts his mind back to try to remember anything that would hint to where he is, what's going on. They're not on a particularly note-worthy job, there's been no reason to expect trouble, no matter how paranoid...

It all came together in an instant, each tiny detail, and he gives an exasperated sigh.

"Yassen!"

The dry chuckle comes from so close to his ear that he jumps.

"Well done, little one," the Russian's familiar voice sounds amused, "consciousness to comprehension in less than a minute."

"You've started giving me tests now?" Alex twists a little against the ropes, even though he knows it's futile - Yassen is very good with knots.

"That was not my intent, no," he sounds contemplative, "but you did very well nonetheless. Perhaps I should start testing you from time to time." A touch to his knee makes Alex start, but Yassen's touch is as soothing as his voice is teasing, drifting along the top of his thigh, over a hip and onto his stomach.

"No point to a test if I'm expecting it, surely?" he suggests, wondering, but not prepared to ask, what Yassen's intent actually was.

"Oh, I'm certain I could find new ways to test you, Alex," the fingers on his stomach are trailing over his skin, making his muscles twitch involuntarily and sending a shiver through him. Only the very tips of those long fingers are touching him, warm and work-roughened, and he wants more, wants the possessive spread of Yassen's palm over pale skin, wants those fingers digging into his hips, skimming down to wrap around his cock.

Instead, they drift idly over his stomach to trace the scar where a bull's horn had once torn his flesh. For all he's tried to disassociate himself from painful memories, become as professional and detached as Yassen, Alex still can't quite escape the shudder that washes through him with the memory of acquiring that scar. With the recollection comes the adrenalin of that danger, and he feels his heartbeat quicken as Yassen calmly explores the ragged line.

"You test my patience all the time," he's trying to keep his tone light, steady, but there's a catch and a hint of breathlessness to betray him, and Yassen chuckles.

"You have no patience, Alex," he murmurs dryly, fingers spreading out to explore his stomach, "I've barely touched you, and so quickly you get hard."

He blushes at that, can feel it spreading over his cheeks - his response to Yassen's touch always feels mortifyingly embarrassing. The sex is fine - fucking, sucking, these things are supposed to feel good, should make his toes curl with want and urgency. But a simple touch? The innocent brush of fingers against skin? Even now, bound and blindfolded, he wanted to hide, to bury his face in the pillow so Yassen can't see how his touch affects him. But he can't move to conceal his reactions, and he can't ever hide the state of his cock in moments like this, not with Yassen calmly exploring his body.

The tormenting fingers are working their way lower, and he bites his lip, hoping they'll find his cock and touch him _properly_ , give him a reason to feel this way. He craves that touch, rough and almost vicious, burning away the teasing tickle that a gentle touch sets under his skin.

Lower still they go, till they're brushing over the golden curls that lead the way to his cock. The urge to thrust up is intense, but the tension on his arms and legs makes it almost impossible. The best he can manage is a convulsive wriggle, which only makes Yassen laugh at him again.

"Bastard," he grumbles, taking refuge in the familiar routine of complaint and insult.

Yassen's fingers are feather-light on his cock without warning - the touch just as teasing, tormenting, as before, but on far more sensitive skin, and he bites the inside of his mouth to hold back a whine.

"You want me already, don't you, Alex?" there's no gloating in Yassen's calm voice, only the air of someone stating an undeniable truth. He's fairly certain that's worse - the humanity of a glimmer of triumph might soften the truth of his words, where this quiet certainty makes him want to writhe and squirm against his bonds. "Answer me, if you please," as Yassen speaks, his fingers spread to curve around Alex's cock and squeeze firmly.

"Yes!" he chokes out the word unwillingly, but helplessly, and he's rewarded for his obedience with a kiss.

He can never resist this, Yassen's mouth over his, sweet and unexpectedly soft, or rough and claiming. The intimacy - shared breath, tangled tongues - should make his skin crawl with its intensity, but he can lose himself completely enough in these kisses that he doesn't care anymore. At least as long as they stay like this.

When Yassen pulls away, he's grateful for the blindfold, glad not to see himself being seen, so exposed.

He hears movement, Yassen shifting on the bed, and then he feels it, the mattress tilting, the brush of skin against his thighs and finally warm pressure on either side of his legs. Just as he starts to wonder why Yassen is straddling him like this, his cock is grabbed in a firm grip - almost too rough - and stroked in a fast, demanding rhythm that makes him grunt in startled pleasure.

A moment ago, he would have said that this was exactly what he wanted. Which is why getting it is making him suspicious now. At least, he's trying to be suspicious, wary, trying to work out what Yassen is planning, what the trick is here. But - fuck - it's good. So good he can't really focus on anything but the heat and friction of Yassen's palm, the steady fires of pleasure he's stoking in the pit of his stomach with every flick of his wrist.

He _knows_ there has to be a hidden agenda here - Yassen wouldn't go to all this trouble for nothing - but he just can't think clearly enough to work out what it is. Especially not after he hears a familiar clicking sound, and feels Yassen's hand slip away for a moment, only to come back slick and frictionless with a coating of lube.

The easy glide of skin sliding wetly against skin is making him tug at his ropes, trying to move, to thrust, _anything_ to avoid the long, slow, drawn-out tease he's expecting now.

What he isn't expecting is for the rhythm on his cock to slow, then halt. For Yassen to shift above him, moving against him in a way that seems to make no sense. For the grip on his cock to tighten, and another hand to grasp his hip, holding him in place.

What happens after that is so deeply, shockingly unanticipated that it takes him far too long to work out precisely what just happened.

Hot. Tight. Slick. Moving.

He tries to swear, but the words don't come - they catch in his throat along with the air he's desperately trying to get into his lungs, and a strange lump that could be his heart.

He's _inside_ Yassen.

For some reason, he'd never really considered this possibility. Fucking went both ways, sure - intellectually he _knew_ that - it just never really fit into his image of himself and Yassen.

He's almost ashamed about what that might say about him.

"What..." he croaks, "why?"

Yassen laughs at him again, but now his voice sounds different, almost strained, and yet oddly satisfied.

"Do you like it when I fuck you?"

Alex doesn't answer at first, the question is so strange as to be nonsensical.

"I...what?" he can't think clearly enough to form an answer.

"Do you like it when I fuck you?" now Yassen's voice takes on a tone of exasperated patience that irks him.

"Of course I do," he rolls his eyes, unseen, behind the blindfold, "you know I do."

"Then why," and for all he sounds a little out of breath, Yassen still sounds admirably - and infuriatingly - in control, "shouldn't I have that pleasure as well?"

Now Alex really feels ashamed - ashamed to have assumed that their positions had any bearing on the power between them. He loved being fucked - Yassen didn't fuck him to own him, he did it to make him, to make them both, feel good. And he was just as capable of being in control when being fucked as when he was fucking.

For a fleeting moment, Alex wonders if he might, one day, be able to make Yassen lose the control he prized so highly. The idea is almost as frightening as it is appealing.

One thing, though, still confuses him.

"Why like this?" he asks, tugging at the ropes again.

"I will teach you to do this properly later," Yassen sounds unfairly amused, "if you are good. For now, the first time, this is easier."

A protest is all ready and waiting to spill from his lips at that, when Yassen shifts, tensing his muscles in a way that tightens his body around Alex, so all that emerges from his mouth is a strangled cry. He thinks he hears a quiet, muffled groan from above him, but he can't be sure, and then Yassen starts to move.

It's so good he can't do a thing, can't even breathe, for a moment, and in that short silence he hears - unmistakeably this time - a soft sigh from overhead. Then his breath comes back to him in a rush, and his ears are filled with the sound of his own desperate panting, and the rhythmic pulse of his heartbeat.

It's not even as though Yassen is moving very much - Alex can feel his hips rocking slowly against him, lifting his arse up as he rocks them back, then pushing him back down onto Alex's cock as they roll forward again. There's no pause, just a constant, steady slide setting his nerves alight.

Nothing he's ever felt has been anything like this. There's no way he can last, not with Yassen moving over him like this, not under him, within him. A laugh starts to bubble up in his chest as he realises that he's not sure whether he should feel guilty for not being able to last long, or smug, for being able to sabotage Yassen's plans even when he's naked, bound, helpless and hard.

When the movement over him changes, however, he wonders if he might have been a bit hasty in assuming Yassen hasn't anticipated his every response. The rhythm falters slightly, and he hears a familiar sound.

_Oh god._

He can hear Yassen, the soft, wet sounds of his hand on his own cock. Yassen is fucking himself on Alex's cock, and stroking himself as he does.

"Yassen, please!" he can't help begging. He needs, needs...

"What is it, Alex?" breathless, but still amused, with just the tiniest hint of something that makes Alex wonder...

"Please," he begs, unashamed now, "take the blindfold off, I want to see you, need to see..."

Bright light hits his eyes almost unexpectedly, and he blinks furiously, trying to clear his vision, aware of a blurred figure above him and wanting to see more.

What he sees takes his breath away, and he throws back his head as he comes, driven over the edge by the sight of Yassen in his lap, his face contorted in more honest, unrestrained pleasure than he can remember ever having seen there before.

Yassen comes moments later, spilling over Alex's stomach and clenching tight around his cock, making him gasp as he shudders through the aftershocks.

In the aftermath, he's almost grateful for his bonds. He probably wouldn't be able to move anyway, and they provide an excellent excuse for not having to try. For once, he's surprised to find Yassen seems just as loathe to move as he is, at first, instead slumping forward to rest his palms on the mattress and his forehead on Alex's shoulder.

For a long moment, there is no sound but their breathing.

"I think, perhaps," Yassen's voice, when it comes, startles him, "you show potential."

He says nothing more, instead climbing off both Alex and the bed and disappearing into the en suite bathroom, but the implication is clear, and Alex tries not to let his toes curl at the thought of doing that again, unbound.

He's so caught up in this thought that he doesn't realise at first that the watery sound he can hear is not the tap, it's the shower.

Knowing Yassen can't hear him over the flow of water, he doesn't bother to swear, but he grinds his teeth. When Yassen unties him, he decides, he'll have to get his revenge. He supposes he ought to be grateful for the time to plan something.

Of course, when Yassen eventually emerges - still dripping slightly, and smiling that irritatingly smug little smile - he completely derails all of Alex's clever plans with a single, whispered word, hot and soft in his ear.

"Again?"


End file.
